Keep Them Close(68)

They must have met tonight, after I’d wound Finley up. Trinity walked into a tinderbox. Finley may have lit the match, but I provided the gasoline.

I take Grayson’s phone and dial my own number to reach Luke back at my house.

“Good news and bad,” I tell him. “Grayson didn’t do this.”

“Oh, thank God. I knew it. I knew it,” says Luke. “What’s the bad news?”





60


Allison

—8:28 p.m.—

When I hang up with Luke, I return to the kitchen. By now, Grayson’s had time to remove the blood from his hands and fingers. The dirty towels are shoved inside a kitchen-sized garbage bag along with the football jersey he’d been wearing.

The overhead light is too bright, throwing everything into harsh relief. His hair is messy, plastered to his forehead. His skin is blotchy pink, raw in patches where he’s scrubbed too hard; I told him to be thorough, just in case. He looks up at me. His eyes are wide, unblinking. I can only imagine the journey he’s taken tonight, through blood and shock and horror and fear.

“I can’t…I mean, I can’t…”

I rub his back. “I’m so sorry about this, Gray. I’m almost done here, and we’ll get you home. Can you give me twenty, thirty more minutes?”

“What…what are you even doing?”

“Just making sure things turn out okay. I need your phone a little longer. Then we can get you home.”

“But…y’know, if they don’t think I did this, they’ll think you did. I mean, somebody killed him, Mom. Aren’t you, like, worried?”

“Nobody will think either of us did it. They’ll figure out who did it.”

“Do…” His face changes. “Do you know who did it?”

I stroke his hair. “I have a pretty good idea, honey. And I promise I’ll help the police catch this person. But it’s better I don’t tell you yet, okay? I promise it’s for the best.”

“Do I…do I know him?”

“No, honey. Now let me get back to it, okay? You’ll be able to leave soon.”



* * *





I return to the bedroom, bracing myself first. I don’t even look at Fin as I enter. I reach into his pants pocket and fish out his iPhone, in its Chicago Bears casing.

I type in the passcode that I’ve always known with a moment of panic—if he changed the passcode, if I can’t access his phone, this is going to be much harder— It works. His phone comes alive.

I walk back into the family room and place both phones down on the glass table, Fin’s and Grayson’s.

With Grayson’s phone, I send a text message to Finley’s phone: Hello? I’m here waiting. What happened to meeting at condo over an hour ago WTF??

A moment later, Finley’s phone buzzes with the receipt.

Good. Still using Grayson’s phone, I call my phone, back in Grace Village with Luke. He answers immediately.

“Ready to go,” I say. “We need to be quick about this.”

“And you’re sure about this?” he says. “You and Trinity aren’t exactly—”

“Do you want me to help her or not?”

“I do, I do. I just…thank you.”

“So listen,” I say. “You’re going to send text messages to Finley from my phone. And I’m going to respond back from Finley’s phone.”

“So later, the cops will see a bunch of texts between you and Fin.”

“Exactly.”

“But wait,” he says. “Didn’t you tell me once the police can locate your cell phone? Won’t they know Finley’s phone is in your condo unit?”

“No, cell site location isn’t that precise,” I say. “They can put you in an area, a sector. They’ll know he was either in this building or close by.”

“But where the hell else would he be? What’s near your condo building?”

I walk over to the picture window and look down, beyond Lake Shore Drive, to the spot I once stood with binoculars, watching Finley and Trinity enter my condo. “Ohio Street Beach,” I say. “He’s too much of a coward to meet with Grayson. He can’t bear to face him. So he’s hanging there, by Jane Addams Park and the beach, until Gray leaves.”

“You want them to think he’s hanging out at the beach? It’s pretty freaking cold out.”

“You got a better idea? I’m dealing with the hand I’m dealt here. Besides,” I say, “he loves that beach. The lake gives him peace. He goes there all the time, even when it’s cold.”

“He does?”

“Well…he does now,” I say. “So let’s do this. Text Finley this message. Ready?”

“Ready.”

I speak slowly so he can type along with my narration. “?‘Where are you, question mark. Gray is at the condo, period. You were supposed to meet him there at seven, he said, period.’ Got all that?”

“Got it. Sending it now.”

Finley’s phone buzzes a moment later. I respond back on Fin’s phone: At OSB thinking and no I’m not contemplating jumping in tho its tempting.